Chapter Text
The cabin is old and creaky, with a fine layer of dust over every fucking surface it can cling to. Briefly Dean thinks back to their old house, small and cramped, but clean. Clean from hours of nerves trapped under his skin begging for release. This place has probably never seen a swiffer in its entire existence.
"At least the fridge is empty." Sam remarks, staring inside the old white appliance like he'd been expecting it to contain a living ecosystem of rotten food and mold.
"Small blessings." Dean shoots back, scoping out the rest of the cabin.
It's got two bedrooms, a single bathroom, a kitchen, a living room with a window looking out at the thick woods, and a back porch leading out to a single-car garage.
Not terrible.
Not great, either.
But beggars can’t be choosers and Dean was the humblest of beggars when he got the keys to this place. He’s pretty fucking lucky, actually, that dads old hunting buddy still had the same number- and that he still gave 2 shits about what Dean had to say. Dean wouldn’t have blamed Bobby for hanging up on his sorry ass, well over a decade since they talked and asking if he had a place to crash because they really needed to get the fuck out of dodge.
Fast.
Apparently Bobby’s old something-or-another had a hunting cabin out in the mountains, close to where Bobby was now but inconvenient to drive up to check on frequently, and had been looking for someone to stay in it, yadda yadda-
Dean didn’t care about the backstory, he still dosen’t, he’d have taken a floor for them to unroll their sleeping bags, it just couldn’t be anywhere near Lawrence.
“Dibs on the big room!” Sam shouts, diving into the bedroom further back in the cabin, a ‘WHUMP’ and bout of coughing following shortly after. Sam probably flopped right onto the bed without even noticing all the dust waiting to plume into the air.
Dean’ll let Sam have the big room- after they take a shop vac to the place- he deserves it for not putting up too much of a fuss when Dean greeted him in their old kitchen a few nights ago, telling him he had an hour to pack his shit and then they were leaving.
Dad’s probably gonna’ notice they’re gone soon, but he probably won't care. Dean’s hoping he won't care, he never has before, why start now?
“Can we get pizza for dinner?”
Fuck, Dean really hadn’t wanted to do this, and even now his stomach is in knots. He’s a thirty-something that technically just kidnapped his 16 year old brother from their home in the middle of the fucking night. Sure, he tried to do things right, un-enrolled Sam from his current school and got him re-enrolled here on the down low. He’s basically already been raising Sam his whole life, all of his school things were addressed to Mr.Dean Winchester’.
But he doesn't have a fucking paper that says Sam is his. No, Sam is the ward of John Winchester, and that would’ve bulldozed his path in life or worse.
“Dean?”
Thank fucking God for Bobby and his connections, Dean can’t even wrap his head around why Bobby helped them after all this time but he’s so goddamn grateful-
“Dean!”
There’s a sharp pain to his side and Dean twists away from Sam’s hand, “What!?”
Sam shrugs, “You were like… spacing out, man.”
“So you pinched me?”
“I called your name,” He looks out the window that Dean had apparently been ‘spacing out’ in front of, “I asked if we could get pizza for dinner?”
“No, we-” Something sticks in his chest, denying Sam right now just feels wrong, “I mean, yeah, why not?”
They have about 100 something dollars to their name but sure, why not?
He reaches out to mess up the hair Sam works so hard on every morning, “We gotta’ stop by Bobby's after- you remember Bobby right?”
“No…?” Sam scrunches his nose up in thought, “Should I?”
“Probably not, the last time we saw him was…” ‘Moms funeral’, “You were pretty little. But he lives close to town and wants us to swing by.”
“But we can get pizza first?”
This kid must have a black hole for a stomach, Dean’s sure of it.
“Yeah, yeah we can.”
“Yes!” Sam pumps his fist in the air, “Can I drive?”
“Fuck no.”
All the excitement is sucked out of the room and Sam huffs, trudging towards the front door, “Fine. I’ll be in Baby- in shotgun because you’re lame.”
“You used to love shotgun!”
Sam slams the front door behind him in response.
Dean remembers being in his 20s, ‘fighting’ his kid brother playfully for the shotgun seat before always giving it up in the end because, well, he had to drive. Sam had always looked so proud, sitting passenger like it was a mighty throne, before he’d grown up and decided that he was too cool for that.
Before… a lot of stuff happen
“He’s a teenager,” Dean reminds himself, grabbing his keys off the counter, “He’s a teenager and he’s been through a lot and-” He takes a deep breath, “Cut him some slack-”
Outside Baby’s horn BLARES, loud and long, as Sam spams the horn, wordlessly demanding for Dean to hurry up.
“Cut him slack.” He mumbles again, this time through gritted teeth.
BEEEP, BEEEEEPPPPPP!
He throws the door open, “I’m coming you animal!”
It takes a decent amount of force to pull the old, warped door closed, then he has to lock not one, but two locks because Bobby's buddy seems like the paranoid type.
He watches Sam lay it on the horn again, a smug grin on his face like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and Dean lets him do it.
If this is what it takes for Sam to smile, then Dean won't scold him.
Just as long as he’s happy.
The cabin- Their cabin- is pretty far from town, at the end of a mountainous dirt road that's gonna' reign hell on Baby's paint job, he just knows it. It's kinda' nice, in a weird way, they'd lived almost in town back in Lawrence, with neighbors close enough to make snide remarks about leaving trash bins out or whatever else was irritating the sticks up their asses.
Not that Dean wanted to live in that house, fat chance. But he'd been saving up for a deposit on an apartment, then mom died, and he couldn't just leave dad with a 4 year old. Then dad started drinking and all the cash Dean earned from his gigs- let's be honest, cash is king and the IRS can fuck themselves- started going missing. Next thing he knew he was a grown man living in his dads basement like a loser, his dreams of owning a nice place far away from nosy old townies was.... well-
At least nobody will be nosing around now.
Sam's content watching the trees fly by the window as they finally pull onto a proper paved road. 'Proper' being a very loose term because he has to swerve to the right to avoid clipping a pothole, then swerve back to avoid driving into a ditch.
"Are you trying to crash?" Sam asks, still looking out the window.
"No." He wont crash Baby if he can help it, putting her back together after her last one is an experience he does not want to relive.
Thankfully for them, the pizza joint is pretty close to the edge of town, lookin' like it was plucked right out of an 80s' coming-of-age movie. Except those movies never covered the raccoons fighting for dominance over the dumpster to the side of the restaurant.
"What'dy'a want?" Dean asks his brother as he parks the car and throws the door open.
"Meat lovers?" Sam clambers out of Baby and stretches his ridiculously lanky frame, "But can we get a vegetable or something? We haven't' eaten anything green in like... a week."
"What about-"
Sam throws up a hand to stop him, "Just because you scraped green mold off of the cheese in the fridge does not mean the cheese now counts as a vegetable."
"Picky, picky." Dean jabs, lightly shoving Sam to the side so he can be the first one in the restaurant.
It's not very busy, even for a weekend evening, a grey haired woman with a name tag reading 'Diane' greets them when they walk in, and there's a few other patrons milling around but other than that...
"Why hello strangers," Diane grins, "What can I get started for ya'?"
"Meat lovers pizza- the biggest size ya' got-" Sam throws Dean a grade-A face, "And throw a vegetable on there? Some peppers?"
"You got it." Outside Dean can hear an old engine rumble to a stop, he really doesn't pay it any mind, too focused on handing over exact change from his ever-shrinking collection of cash, but Diane, she immediately notices.
"Oh, goodness gracious." She huffs in exaggeration, briefly turning to slide Sam and Deans order through the kitchen window, "Your pizza will be out in just a bit, hon's, let me just deal with these next..."
She trails off and Dean steps off to the side, dragging Sam with him. Just as he does, two more people walk into the restaurant lobby- one's a dark haired teenager who looks like he's Sam's age, the other is a man dressed like-
Well... Dean's not sure if there's any single word to describe the blue eyed man in bunny slippers, boho pants, a ratty hoodie with a flannel layered over it, and a proper 5 o'clock scruff. Now that he's looking, the teenager is dressed similarly, sandals and patterned wool socks instead of slippers, but linen pants and well-worn sweater make it incredibly obvious he belongs to the other man.
"A large cheese pizza with olives, please." The man orders with a deep, raspy voice.
They must come here often because he has a wad of bills out before he can even be told his total.
Diane wrinkles her nose at the pair, taking the money Bunny Slippers offers her with a pinched face, only grabbing the bills with the very tips of her thumb and pointer fingers.
The man, to his credit, doesn't seem fazed in the slightest, just accepts the change she gives him and haphazardly shoves it in his pocket before he turns to the teenager at his side. They exchange a few mumbled words, the man reaches right back into his pocket, hands the teenager all the change plus some, then turns on his heel and stalks out into the night while the teenager beelines for the vending machine.
Dean's trying not to side-eye the kid as he starts methodically draining the machines supply of snickers and Cheez-Its, but Diane has no such shame, watching him buy a few bars before loudly sighing and remarking, "Those damn hippies."
Now, over the years Dean has learned how to not give into his impulse of loudly asking questions that could be considered rude. Sam has not yes mastered this skill.
"Hippies?" He asks, loud enough that Dean sees the kid at the vending machine stiffen.
"Bring it down, Sammy," Dean pulls Sam closer to the counter, if they're gonna have this conversations they're gonna have it quietly, "Just cos' they look a little ratty doesn't mean they're-"
"Oh they're hippies."
Goddamn, Diane's quick to the draw. At least she's being quieter now.
"They have a damn commune up on the ridge," She continues, "Grow most of their own produce and sell it at the markets, most of 'em don't come into town, they're happy with their little cult."
"It's a cult?" Dean blurts- okay, maybe he hasn't perfected not letting his impulses win- he hopes it's not a cult, he's pretty sure the only ridge nearby is the one him and Sammy just made camp on.
Diane nods sagely, accepting a pizza box from the back of house and looking at the name in distaste, "Whatever you wanna' call it- Listen, to each their own, but nudists and- and-" she lowers her voice to a whisper, "orgy's. That's just shameful."
That sound's like they're having a fantastic fucking time, Dean thinks, then he remembers the younger hippie looks like he can't be older than Sam and he suddenly feels like it's less fantastic.
Diane sets the pizza box on the counter and calls out the name like it pains her, "Casti-"
The teenager is across the lobby and snatching up the box with a red face before she can even finish the name.
"We don't do any of that stuff." He mumbles, quiet but firm, the pockets of his linen pants heavy with cheap snacks, "Have a lovely evening."
He doesn't tip, just turns on his heel and storms out to where Bunny Slippers is waiting, leaned up against an old beater truck.
"No manners either." Diane huffs, handing Dean his own pizza box, "You two lovely's have a nice night."
"Thank you." Dean forces out, feeling just as uncomfortable as Sam looks at this entire situation.
He doesn't tip either.
"That was weird-" Sam mumbles as they push open the doors to the restaurant, but he snaps his jaw shut as soon as they're properly outside.
Dean can see why, Slippers and the teenager are still outside, the teenager whispering furiously as the older man stares down at the, now open, pizza box.
"-You can't keep letting them say this stuff!" Teenager hisses out, voice almost non-existent once he notices Sam and Dean awkwardly shuffling by to get to Baby.
"I asked for olives." The man mumbles, squinting down at the offending pizza.
"I'm serious, man-"
"I asked for olives, didn't I?" Finally the man turns to look at the teenager, "Did I forget to ask for olives?"
The teenager sighs, shoulders crumbling, "No, you didn't- They always forget your olives."
"That's a shame." Slippers glances up just as Dean opens Baby's door, catching his eye and throwing Dean an easy smile, "Good evening."
"Uh..." Dean glances down at Sam in the car, who looks like Dean's just made contact with aliens, "'Sup."
"You should check your pizza, it'd be a shame if you were missing toppings too."
"Yeah man... for sure." Then, for reasons only God knows why, Dean throws the guy a double thumbs-up before ducking into the drivers seat, leaving the hippies to their bickering.
The car is eerily quiet until they're a good block away from the restaurant and all it's odd characters, "Dude."
Sam's twisted to look at his brother, eyes wide, "There's a cult in our backyard?"
"Not a cult, Sam," God, he hopes it's not a cult, "It's... It's a commune."
"With nudists and-"
"Do not finish that sentence, I swear I will make you walk home."
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
"Fine," Sam casually leans his arm against the window, "Guess I'll just have to tell whatever cop picks me up that a strange man kidnapped me from Kansas and left me on the side of the road-"
Dean's never hit the brakes so hard in his fucking life.
"Woah-" Sam grabs the pizza box to keep it from sliding off the seat, "What the hell?"
"Don't-" Dean's hands are shaking on the wheel- Logically he knew Sam understood just how fucked up their situation was but he didn't think- "Sammy, you don't mean that." His voice cracks, "Please tell me you don't mean that."
His brothers eyes widen, "Dean, chill, I was just joking, I wasn't gonna'- I mean- I know not to...."
Dean forces himself to take a measured breath before slowly letting off the brakes.
"I'm sorry, Dean."
Fuck, it's not Sam's fault- not really- I mean yeah, sure, if he hadn't gotten mixed up with that Ruby chick things might've been different but they were always gonna' need to leave and-
"Dee?"
"Yeah, it's-" He tries his best to stop the oncoming freak-out he's feeling, "It's okay. You're okay...."
"Yeah..."
Dean swallows thickly, "Ya' know if you- If you really want to go back-"
"No!" Sam yelps, "No, I mean- I'm pissed you didn't let me say goodbye to my friends-" Dean bites back the remark about them most certainly not being friends, "But I don't want to go back."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yep." Dean dares to look away from the road, just so he can smile at his brother, "Hey, I think I packed a few DVD's, wanna bust out the laptop and watch Maximum Overdrive while we eat?"
"Hell yeah!"
"Hell yeah." Dean agrees.
Crisis averted for tonight, at least he can say that.
Now all he has to worry about is the Bunny Slipper wearing, blue eyed, maybe-cultists running around his backyard.